


an assembly of sounds

by orphan_account



Series: this is the end [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s05e04 The End, M/M, POV Castiel, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 08:02:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1380028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words lose their meaning but the sentiment remains.</p>
            </blockquote>





	an assembly of sounds

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick end!verse thing before school. Enjoy!

“I love you.”

You say it like it doesn’t mean anything, like it’s just an assembly of sounds. The words tumble and fall out of your mouth, landing on the ground in front of you and making a home in the dust and the dirt, molding to the crevices in the wood, making it perfectly smooth.

He nods, once. Twice. And he doesn’t look at you.

“I think I might hate you,” he says quietly. So quietly that you think he hasn’t spoken at all; would doubt your own ears if you hadn’t seen his lips form the words. The words rise from his mouth like wisps of smoke, they curl around your body and snag at your clothes, wrapping around you and keeping you close; pulling you under.

His words don’t take a hole out of your chest, not like they would have once. The confessions, twisting and turning in the air and sliding along the floor, don’t stop the world. The sun is still setting and you’re still breathing, slow measured breaths, and he’s still not looking at you. You think there must be something interesting over your left shoulder; his eyes are riveted there like the grain of the wood will tell him where it all went wrong.

Maybe it will; you don’t know. Your back is turned to the possibility of answers because this was something you used to be so sure of. There was a time where each ‘I love you’ was met with an echo and a smile, a blush in the light of day that bathed your life in golden light. An assembly of sounds that made you remember why you fell.

You’re never sure who moves first; but you meet in the middle like a car crash. It’s like you’re the moon and he’s the tide, following you down into your destruction. Or maybe it’s the other way around and you’re following him as you fall from grace. You don’t think it matters that much when he’s tugging at your shirt and your fingers pull at his hair; you’re following each other’s lead on the path of good intentions and it’s too late to turn back.

The assembly of sounds become a cacophony in your head, but there’s near silence in the four walls of a cabin that has seen more raw humanity than most homes. You just know that this isn’t home; home was what you used to be, home was what _he_ used to give you. Now there’s just this; sounds that don’t mean what they used to and confessions that turn to vapour as they leave your mouth, mimicking the smoke you’ve become accustom to.

The line between hate and love grows thinner as your bodies press closer together, searching for the familiar warmth that you used to find in each other’s arms. You’ll never find it, and it tears you apart to try because each time you remember what used to be, but you’ll never stop out of hope.

One day you hope you confession will earn and echo again; one day you hope that soft light will filter into the cabin and the truth will once again be happiness; one day you hope that you don’t end up here.

But you know the truth, and it’s one that you’re not allowed to speak for fear of breaking. You’ll _always_ end up here – until the day you die.


End file.
